Young Blood Chronicles (NarratedStoryline)
by GreenApples11
Summary: Young Blood Chronicles from Pete and Patrick's point of view. Watch out for cursing, blood and gore, and evil strippers.


**Young Blood Chronicles Chapter 1**

**Patrick's POV**

Patrick tightened the handcuff on his wrist with a snap. The rendezvous point was a few blocks away an the instructions were quite clear. Bring the briefcase, and come alone. A bit fishy, yes, but the band trusted their sources.

"Remember guys, the bird's the sign, just in case anything goes wrong...which it shouldn't" Said Pete nervously. The band nodded, completely unaware of just how wrong things are about to go.

Patrick smiled at the kid in front of him. If he was just handing it off to this harmless kid, there's nothing to worry about. Patrick didn't have time to react as the woman behind him hit the tazer to his neck. Patrick fell with a thud.

When Patrick regained consciousness, he was tied down tightly to a chair in a dark room. His glasses and hat were gone and his head was pounding. He had a bag over his head, so he couldn't see anything but he could hear voices whispering around him. Patrick gripped the briefcase tighter. "Do you think his screams sound as good as his singing voice?" One voice whispered. "Only one way to find out." the other said. Patrick tensed. They are woman... and are planning on making Patrick scream... not a good sign. There were footsteps and then the bag was yanked off Patrick's head. He was breathing heavily as one woman gagged him with a cloth. Patrick chocked a bit in a moment of panic, but the woman had better thing in store.

The woman began circling him, stabbing him with sharp instruments, grabbing at his face and squeezing his cheeks the way a grandmother would, although not quite as lovable, and tightening his ropes until the were painful. Patrick continued to struggled against them, thrashing, bucking, even biting, but it was no use. The woman tied Patrick's handcuffed hand to a table and Patrick thought she was going to cut the handcuff, but oh boy was he wrong. She hit the knife against the table with a _slam. _Patrick screamed so loudly, he wondered how his lungs didn't just collapse. The pain was intoxicating. The woman ran her tongue down the dull edge of the butchers knife, enjoying listening to the singer's screams. His hand- no stump was coming in waves of agony, as Patrick just stared dumbfounded at his hand-less wrist. The pain was too much, and Patrick went numb. He blacked out and collapsing in his chair.

**Pete's POV**

Pete laid in his bed, exhausted with worry. Patrick has been gone too long. He should have been back by now. Maybe he made the delivery and just went home. Yeah right, when is anything ever that simple? "Something must have gone wrong." He said to his wife.

_Ding Dong. _Pete tensed. _Patrick?_ Pete crept downstairs and opened the door. There was no one there. "Hello?" He called. No answer. There was definitely something wrong here. Pete was closing the door when he caught sight of this white grocery bag hanging on the outer doorknob. The inside was splattered with what the naive part of his mind hoped was ketchup, but he highly doubted. Pete cautiously looked into the bag like it was a bomb. Pete's breath was caught in his throat. In the blood splattered bag was a hand. An FOB tattooed, pale, blood-splattered, decapitated hand. "Oh, 'Trick, what have we got ourselves into?"

The bird is the sign. Pete released the falcon and watched it soar away, hoping that Andy and Joe see it and get the message, completely unaware of the masked woman sneaking up behind him until it was too late.

**Patrick's POV**

Patrick screamed again. And again. And again. His voice was hoarse and vocal chords unwilling to make any more noise but Patrick let out all the pain in violent screams of agony. Patrick was tied down to a hospital bed, his wrist painfully wrapped in gauze, with the evil strippers poking and prodding his bloody chest. Patrick's shirt had been ripped open and a scalpel was being dragged across it, getting ready to open up his stomach and slice his innards. Another scream.

One of the women pulled on a latex glove. That can't be a good thing. As she reached down Patrick's chest, toward his now wide open stomach, Patrick began to shake violently out of fear, shock and pain. She placed a finger inside the opening and another scream ripped it's way out of Patrick. Patrick tried to claw her hands away from him, but she just put a hand over his mouth with a bloody glove.

Patrick bucked his hips wildly with painful spasms, clear liquid spewing out his mouth, and blood rolling out his face and chest. The woman pulled things out and put god knows what into Patrick's abdomen. The second woman kept handing the other one various rusty medical tools, all to inflict pain. She dragged one hooked tool down his face, as the other fucked up his organs. Patrick let out one final scream, built up from deep in his chest and let it all out in a gut-wrenching noise of agony. Patrick continued hyperventilating until the pain was just too much. His vision clouded and he blacked out.


End file.
